France Always Wins in the End
by Tanya Tsuki
Summary: It's a cold winter morning, one much better spent snuggling and cuddling in bed than getting ready for a meeting.


The first thing Canada noticed when he woke in the wee hours of the morning was warmth. The blanket was tightly held in his arms, and there was warm radiating from behind, wrapping around and embracing him. He moved slightly, his hands brushing against arms holding him close. He sighed, and leaned back a bit, further into the warmth. France. He'd almost forgotten about him.

Canada's movement caused France to start fidgeting himself. He pulled him even closer, and nuzzled Canada's hair, the faint smell of Canada's vanilla-maple scented shampoo filling his nose. He let out a content sigh and casually draped a leg over Canada's, bringing them closer than they had been all night.

Canada smiled and let France completely latch onto him. It was nice, comforting, and oh so warm. A cold front had come through with a vengeance the night before, and his house was still feeling a little cool. He was not looking forward to having to leave the bed and get ready for the day.

But there was no rush.

"Bonjour," France sleepily murmured into his hair.

Canada hummed in return and France snuggled even closer. Canada couldn't help but chuckle at that; it was almost like he had become France's Kumajirou with how protectively he was being held. And, it definitely wasn't unwelcome. Considering how often he was forgotten or seemed invisible, it was wonderful to finally have this attention focused all on him, even if France was asleep.

Canada let out another contented sigh, and debated about turning over so he could hug France back. But then France mumbled something else into his hair and began snoring softly, and Canada decided against it. Why risk accidentally waking him and ruining this moment?

Smiling, he relaxed fully into France's embrace and drifted back into sleep.

* * *

France woke some time later, completely tangled with both Canada and the blanket. Canada's quiet breathing and the soft ticking of the clock were the only sounds in the room. Smiling to himself, France glanced over at the clock.

Six fifty seven in the morning. The alarm would be going off soon, signaling the start to another day full of cold snow and boring meetings.

France sighed and wondered if it was possible to move any closer to Canada. Staying in bed, snuggling, together was so much more preferable to the day ahead. In fact… he carefully reached over and switched the alarm off, doing his best not to jostle the bed.

Canada twitched a bit, his breathing becoming uneven, and France froze, carefully watching him. But then Canada mumbled something and his breathing returned to the even breaths of one fast asleep and France released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Feigning a yawn, France moved his arm back around Canada, holding him as close as he could.

This was much, much preferable.

* * *

Canada awoke again with a smile. He was still nestled between the blanket and France, and the warmth and attention was wonderful. Sadly, the moment would have to come to an end soon. Surely it was almost seven, and they would have to get up, greet the day, and spend it in meetings.

Meetings where he would once again be ignored and unheard. He couldn't wait…

Sighing, he slowly turned, and pressed against France's chest. He heard a chuckle and France moved to accommodate him, muttering something like "Good morning." Canada merely hummed in return, and looked at the clock over France's shoulder.

Seven thirty.

Canada frowned. "France," he said softly.

"Hrmph," France mumbled into the pillow.

"France, did you turn off the alarm?" Canada asked, and tried to roll away from him.

"Oui," France admitted, tightening his grip on Canada and pulling him back. "Let us stay in bed all day. Surely this is more preferable than that silly meeting."

"We can't skip the meeting," Canada grumbled, but France noted that he didn't try to pull away again. "Remember how much England yelled at Italy for skipping and his threats for the next one who skipped? We have to go."

"But, Canada," France whined, hiding his face into Canada's chest. "I would much rather stay here~."

"As would I, France," Canada sighed and pushed him away. "I'm going to go take a shower, enjoy the bed for a little while longer, I guess."

"It's not the same without you," France pouted, but he was met with silence and cold as Canada left him alone.

* * *

"You are cruel," France commented as he re-entered the room after taking his shower.

"What?" Canada asked in surprise, running a brush through his still-wet hair.

France threw his arms around Canada's shoulders. "You left me in a cold bed all alone," he whined. "What a cruel thing to do."

"It was—would you put some clothes on?" Canada hissed, turning bright red and finding himself unable to look at France.

Chuckling, France heaved a heavy, fake sigh. "If I must."

"You must," Canada snapped, dropping his head into his hands. Why couldn't France ever act normal?

"Fine, fine. If it will make you happy," France sing-songed and left Canada alone so that he could get dressed.

Canada put his brush down on the table. "Thank you."

"How is this~?" France asked a few minutes later, and Canada turned. He stood in front of him in a simple pair of dark dress pants and a loose, half unbuttoned white shirt. On anyone else, Canada included, it would have looked sloppy but he somehow managed to make it look sexy as anything.

"It looks alright." Canada felt his face turning bright red again.

France tilted his head, his hair falling into his face. " 'Alright'? What's wrong with it?"

"Ah n-nothing," Canada stammered, shaking his head. "Just… your hair!"

"My hair?" France repeated, running his hand through it. "What's wrong with it?"

"Um… uh… it's too long!" Canada managed to squeak out and grabbed his brush and a hair tie off the table. "Here, let me tie it back for you."

"It's not a bother to me," France told him, but he obediently sat down so Canada could have an easier time of tying it back.

"Well, I think it makes you look even sexier with it tied," Canada mumbled, pulling the brush through France's hair. His words didn't dawn on him until he heard France laugh.

"Does it, now?"

Canada made a noise of agreement and collected France's hair into a ponytail, tying it off quickly. "L-let's go. We're going to be late to the meeting," he said as soon as he'd finished, and headed for the door.

"Oh, Canada," France called just as Canada had opened the door.

"What?" Canada refused to turn around. There was no way he could turn around and not turn bright red, and he was not going to let France know just how much he enjoyed how he looked today.

"You don't want to see the finished look?" It sounded like France was doing a fake pout again.

Canada fell for it, though, hook, line, and sinker. Slowly, he turned around. France was sitting on the bed again, looking sexy without even trying in that stupid outfit and hair pulled back. Seeing that he'd turned around, France smiled and patted the bed next to him.

"Isn't it too cold outside to leave? Wouldn't you much rather stay in bed with the sexy me?"

"You're an egotistical maniac, aren't you?" Canada asked, but France couldn't help but notice that he was shutting the door.

"You love it," France accused.

"We really shouldn't skip the meeting," Canada said again once the door was shut.

"Forget that English bastard."

"But—" France was up and holding Canada before he could continue. Canada relaxed and let himself be lead back to bed. "I suppose being a little late won't hurt much."

France smiled. This morning was going to be wonderful.


End file.
